This story could also have been placed in the “Reluctance, Non-Consent” category. If you don’t like that type of story, don’t read on.


“You always seem so content with your marriage, Liam,” one of my business partners and friends said to me as we were driving to a ball game.

“I guess because I really am, Mike,” I replied. “Plus, once you turn 50 – like I did last year – your available options seem to drop precipitously,” I laughed.

“I doubt that,” Mike laughed back. “I think you could have your pick of any girl at the office, single or married, if you so choose. Don’t you see the looks that they give you?”

“Just trying to get on the boss’ good side,” I smiled.

If I weren’t humble, I would have agreed with Mike. With almost no effort on my part I have always been attractive to members of the opposite sex. I’m told that it is because I have an open and friendly face with sparkling blue eyes, I am a good listener, and thanks to good genes I have a high metabolism so that I’ve never been the least bit overweight, and with only minimal exercise (mostly bicycling, kayaking and weightlifting, a total of only two or three times a week) I’ve maintained good muscle tone. It certainly is not because I’m the best looking guy; I consider my facial features to be only slightly better than average.

I’ve been married to the same woman, Kathy, for almost thirty years because we are simpatico. We both have giving and upbeat personalities, similar intelligence, and enough interests both in common and different that we always have something to talk about. We also have three great kids.

The only thing less than perfect about our marriage is the sex. It is difficult to admit, and I would never even hint it to Kathy, but she is bad in bed. No matter what I have tried over the last twenty nine years (we never had sex together before marriage, if you can believe that) it came up “nada!” She simply is not as passionate, playful, inventive, or lustful as any of the women I had sex with before we got married. While even after we turned 50 we still have had sex about once a week or ten days, on a scale of one to ten it is only about a three or four as far as physical satisfaction is concerned, although a nine as far as an expression of love is concerned. Despite the lack of physical fireworks I never had any interest in having sex with other women despite almost daily opportunities to do so, and I’m quite sure that she hasn’t either.

There was only one rough patch in our marriage – actually a continuation of when we got married. Kathy’s parents are ultra-rich. Her mother, Grace, is an heiress who never earned a dime in her life, but could manage money very well; and her father, Chamberlain, is a sycophant, at least where Grace is concerned. Unlike the normal situation he had the looks and she had the money, and thankfully Kathy’s face is more like Chamberlain’s so that she is a very attractive woman. Her personality is nothing like either of her parents’, and if she didn’t look like Chamberlain and have her Grace’s nice round ass (the only good feature her mother has), I’d think that she was adopted.

Even though Kathy and I fell madly in love our senior year in college, I wasn’t good enough for her, in Grace’s eyes. Apparently since my parents didn’t have big bucks, and since I went through school on a football scholarship – “What a distasteful, boorish game, only for thugs and miscreants,” according to Grace – the facts that I was desirable to woman and at least smart enough to graduate from the same school as her daughter, were not enough to make me acceptable.

For the first time in her life Kathy defied her mother and we got married in a civil ceremony with only her brother, my sister, and my parents in attendance. This denied Kathy the big wedding she had dreamed about as a little girl. Grace disowned us, and Chamberlain was too big of a milquetoast to stand up to her.

It’s funny how financial success and a grandkid can change things.

By the time that our first child, Kevin Jackson Williams, was born I had become a success in business. With my two partners we already had about thirty employees, and enough money to have a nice lifestyle. This included a beautiful four bedroom home, not like the mansion that Kathy grew up in, but one that 99% of the population would love to have.

When Kevin was about four months old I came home from work anxious to see him. A limo was parked on the street in front of our house, a very strange occurrence. When I entered the house the first thing that I heard was the unmistakable grating voice of my mother-in-law.

There in the living room was Kathy, holding Kevin, Grace and Chamberlain.

In an agitated voice I said “What are you doing here Grace?”

“We’ve come to see our beautiful grandson; Chamberlain and I have decided to let you back into our lives,” she said with a smile.

“Oh really, how thoughtful,” I said with as much sarcasm as possible. Apparently she thought that it was sincere because she had the gall to continue.

“Yes; well I was just telling Katherine here that it would be wonderful if Kevin’s last name was hyphenated to Williams-Smythe, so that people would immediately know his proper roots.”

I was stunned for about twenty seconds. Grace or Chamberlain might have said something else, but I couldn’t be sure because I had zoned out. I glanced at Kathy and she had a disturbed look on her face, was staring at me and shaking her head “No.”

I walked over to the front door, opened it, walked back to Grace, grabbed the rear of the collar of her dress suit with my left hand and her belt with my right, lifted her up and walked her out the door screaming. I dumped her on the hood of the limo and told her chauffer “Get this piece of shit out of my sight, NOW!”

Apparently Grace was screaming for Chamberlain to do something about it, so even though he was terrified he swung at me with his right hand. I caught it in mid-air with my left and crushed it enough to bring him to his knees. “The only reason I’m not going to break every bone in your hand Chamberlain is because you are a sorry piece of shit who never had the balls to stand up to the uber-bitch that you’re married to. But if you ever swing at me again I’ll break your spine.”

I released Chamberlain and he cried out, trying to massage the life back into his right hand. Then I turned to Grace. “Unless you get on your knees and apologize to me for being the incredible bitch that you have been to me, and then beg your daughter for her forgiveness for ruining her dream of a big wedding, you will never see Kevin or any other children we have, and neither Kathy nor I will ever speak to you again. She will have to choose between you and me and while nothing is certain in life I believe the odds-makers in Vegas will make me a 20-1 favorite.”

Kathy had witnessed this exchange from a position about twenty feet behind me. When I turned her mouth was agape, but she said nothing. I gently escorted her and Kevin back into the house, closed the door, and started playing with Kevin. Kathy simply sat in the living room shell-shocked.

After Kevin went to bed Kathy lit into me. She had no problem with me telling her mother off – in a gentle manner. She had a real problem with me physically throwing her out and the language I used, and the demand that any apology she made be on her knees. For the only time in my life, before or since, I told Kathy that I had not the slightest regret, that I would never apologize to her or to her parents, and that I meant what I said. If she ever even talked to her mother again without the apology I was history.

I don’t know if I meant the last part, but I convinced Kathy that I did.

Things were icy around our house for a good month, including no sex. Things gradually thawed and a year after the incident we were back to where we were before it occurred – a loving family.

Apparently Kathy’s brother, Reggie, was an intermediary between Kathy and her parents; I know that Kathy did not want to call my bluff about her talking to her mother. Kathy gave Reggie photos and videos of Kevin and our happy family, and apparently it was too much for Grace to bear once Kathy got pregnant with our second child about three years after “the incident.” When I came home on a Friday night, once Kevin and I had a good “wrassle,” and I gently stroked Kathy’s belly, she had some news.

“I talked to Reggie at length today,” she said smiling.

“Really? What about?” I inquired.

“My mother and father want to visit us this Sunday,” she said with a lilt in her voice, like it would be good news.

I controlled my blood pressure rise fairly well, considering. “Is the bitch ready to get on her knees and apologize?” I asked in a snarky voice.

“She told Reggie that she will sincerely apologize to both of us, but not on her knees,” Kathy hesitantly said.

“Then tell her not to bother,” I snarled.

“Actually, Liam, I’ve already told Reggie to have them come by at noon on Sunday. If she isn’t sincere with her apology we will ask her to leave. But we will not make her get on her knees, and you will not physically evict her,” she said in a well-rehearsed voice.

With anger in my eyes I started to retort something vile, but she held up her hand to stop me and used words and a tone with me that she never had used before. “Shut up, Liam, and listen. There is no way you’ll leave me when I’m pregnant, there is no way that you’ll leave Kevin without an everyday father, and there is no way that you’ll throw away our love over this. IF her apology is sincere, and if she agrees not to meddle in our lives, we will accept it and allow my mother and father back into our lives. Is that clear!”

I could tell that she was on the verge of tears, and was absolutely no way that I was going to let my loving pregnant wife break down over this. Plus, she actually was being reasonable. So I softened my look, simply said “OK,” then took her into my arms and let her sob.

Believe it or not but the bitch did sincerely apologize to both of us, Chamberlain followed suit, and with only minor lapses from that day forward they both have acted almost like normal people. They both are still terrified of me, and I have done nothing to mitigate that terror over the years. However, I am civil to them primarily because my three kids are happy to have four grandparents instead of just two and I don’t want to set a bad example for the kids.

That is likely far more than you need to know but it is background for the main theme of this recitation.

Over the years Kathy and I have had a large circle of friends. Most have similar values to Kathy and me, and most like to party a little wildly – while not being gross or too “handsy” or “huggy!” The one consistent exception was William and Angela Horton.

The Hortons had always been a profoundly religious strict Catholic couple. They both went to conservative Roman Catholic schools from elementary through college, and in the vast majority of situations seemed to let religion dictate their actions and politics. I often got the feeling that the only reason that they socialized with us was to see how the other half lived, although they did avoid our occasions when they predicted that they might be too “extreme.” I do remember William once saying, in all seriousness, that “sex should only be for procreation.”

Angela was the only one of our regular female friends that didn’t flirt with me at least a little. I tried on occasion to harmlessly flirt with her, but it was usually met with indifference, lack of understanding, or sometimes even indignation. I do remember a number of times thinking “what a waste” when interacting with Angela because she is a good looking woman and if she dressed less conservatively and didn’t have a bone up her ass would probably be one of the sexiest women in my experience.

Angela had three kids, and couldn’t have any more after the third for medical reasons, so I often wondered if that meant – in view of William’s apparently serious comment and her stiff nature – that she hadn’t had sex since her youngest child was born eighteen years ago. That occasioned a number of other “what a waste” contemplations in my pea brain.

The only time that Angela had made any body contact, aside from a handshake, with me in the fourteen years that I knew her was when I helped her oldest son out of a jam about two years before the critical part of this story. What the jam consisted of is irrelevant to this story, but it was serious and something that she did not want to tell William about. For that I got a hug and a promise of financial compensation; I firmly declined the latter, but to my surprise was actually aroused by the former, so much so that I’m afraid that my little friend poked her in the belly before she released me.

Considering Angela’s history, she flabbergasted her friends by holding a “re-commitment ceremony” that could only be described as bizarre. Angela had her ample-size house decorated for a wedding, including with a variety of elaborate flower arrangements. The food was a bountiful catered buffet, and the music for the ceremony was provided by the string and coronet parts of an excellent local rock band. Those were not the flabbergasting parts.

The flabbergasting parts were that the re-commitment ceremony was not conducted by a Catholic priest but by some sort of Eastern guru, affiliation unclear, and that the vows had been written by Angela. The vows included the words “Recanting all previous vows made during our initial ceremony,” and conspicuously did not include the word “obey” or the phrase “forsaking all others.” Although not quite as flabbergasting, but certainly surprising, were Angela’s almost see-through short dress, and the other parts of the rock band that had played at the ceremony playing at the reception, held in a large tent with portable dance floor that filled William and Angela’s back yard.

Angela was effervescent after the ceremony and made a point of going around and chatting up and hugging all of the guests. Not only was the hug I received startling but so was her invitation to dance a couple of dances with me, during which she displayed a talent that I had never seen before. She laughed when I complimented her on her vitality and replied “I’ve been taking lessons.”

Just before Kathy and I were getting ready to leave what had truly been a fun and totally remarkable evening Angela asked me to dance with her one more time. This time it was a slow dance. I couldn’t believe it when she put her right thigh between my legs as we whisked each other around the floor, or her comment when we broke as the song ended. “There is really something I need to talk with you about. Is it possible that you could come to my house sometime Tuesday morning – please, I’d be forever grateful?”

Since I’m the boss at work, and since Tuesday has the lightest workload 90% of the time, I said “Sure; how’s 10 a.m.?”

“Thank you, Liam,” she gushed with a big smile on her face. She kissed me on the cheek – adding to the “firsts” of the evening – then said “See you at ten!”

On the way home, and before we fell asleep, all that Kathy and I could talk about was how strange – though fun – the evening was, especially Angela’s actions.

“It’s like she had a personality transplant,” I laughed at one point.

“Maybe a mid-life crisis,” Kathy giggled in return.

“What do you think that she wants to talk to you about on Tuesday, Liam?” Kathy asked at one point.

“I really don’t know – probably something to do with Jim again,” Jim being Angela’s oldest son, the one I had bailed out of trouble two years earlier.

“You never did tell me what ‘situation’ you bailed him out of last time,” Kathy said with an expectant smile.

“Nor will I this time either,” I said, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her to bed. Unfortunately she was not as sexually charged that evening as I was, and our night didn’t end up with my cock in one of her orifices. I embarrassed myself by going into the bathroom and jacking-off after Kathy was asleep. My embarrassment was heightened because I was primarily thinking of Angela while vigorously stroking my cock.

When I arrived at Angela’s house Tuesday morning promptly at ten I was greeted by Angela wearing a skimpy nightgown. “I’m so sorry, Liam,” she said when answering the door, “I slept late and haven’t had a chance to dress. Please forgive me.”

“No problem,” I replied, trying not to stare at her sculptured bare legs.

After she brought us some tea, and we engaged in some small talk, she once again shocked the shit out of me.

“Say, Liam,” she murmured, switching her gaze between my eyes and her exposed thighs as we sat facing each other on living room chairs, “did you notice anything unusual about our vows at the re-commitment ceremony?”

I noticed lots of unusual things, but didn’t want to mention any. “I’m not sure, Angela – you know that I’m not the most observant person in the world.”

“I believe that,” she chuckled. “Well, did you notice that the vows did not include ‘forsaking all others?’”

“HOLY SHIT!” caromed around my brain for what seemed like a full minute. I finally regained my composure and said, after trying to clear the nervousness out of my throat, “Uh, well, uh, maybe, uh, yes, now that you mention it I do think that I, uh, noticed that!” I felt my collar get tight.

“Do you know why that wasn’t in there?” she asked, rubbing her left foot over her right leg.

“Oh, uh, not really,” I squeaked out, sounding like a trapped mouse.

“Because I haven’t really had much sex, or enjoyed it like I imagine most people have, the first fifty years of my life. I decided to change that, and since I don’t think that I’ll ever experience what I’m looking for with William I told him that we change our vows or we split. He’s so fucking Catholic he’d never get divorced, so I had him by the balls, so to speak. I still love him in a plutonic way, and want to stay together for the kids even though they are technically adults. But I intend to get fucked regularly and vigorously. Understand?”

“Oh, well, yah, I guess so,” I retorted, now in full blown internal meltdown.

“Liam,” she said in the most seductive way she had ever spoken in my experience, as she rose and walked over to me, putting her crotch even with my face and gently stroking my cheek, “do you think that you could help me fulfill my need?”

As I stuttered and stammered, she undid the belt of her nightgown and the open front sides parted, giving me a clear view of her pussy. “I’ve even shaved my cunt for you – do you like it?” she questioned, rhetorically.

As I could feel sweat pouring down my face I couldn’t help but stare at her pussy, and marvel that she had called it a “cunt.” As she started moving her crotch even closer to my face I suddenly was jolted back to reality, stood up while gently pushing her away, and said, “Uh, wow, uh, Angela, you’re an uber-sexy woman. However, I did have ‘forsaking all others’ in my marriage vows, and I can’t do it to Kathy. God, you have a fantastic looking pussy – I mean, I’m sorry, uh, well, I’ve got to get out while I can…”

I don’t know for sure if I actually said, or just thought, the last sentence. I probably did actually say it, though, because Angela got a wicked smile on her face as I scurried out the door, still switching my gaze between her face and the work of art between her consummate thighs. As I left she called out “Are you sure that your vows contained ‘Forsaking all others?’ Many civil ceremonies do not.”

Fortunately that Tuesday was slow at work, even for a Tuesday, because I sure as hell didn’t get anything done. All I could think about was how sexy Angela was and how I would love to shove my tongue, then my cock, up her moist slit!

September 2018
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